Team Seven's Sensei
by Guratta
Summary: Hatake Kakashi never speaks of his past, though it may just. . . come to light one day. A young Sakura manages to dredge up the medical history (among other records) of her beloved team, though her attention is particularly attracted to that of her masked sensei. Armed with the catalyst, she seeks to cause a reaction.
1. The Files

She was hungry.

Books were laid out on the table among a mess of papers. Several were guides to maintaining chakra control, supplementing the wide array of medical tomes Shizune had graciously lended to the cause. Each one would eventually be read cover-to-cover. She realised this with some dismay; for the past week, Sakura had been learning the rudiments of medicine from the Hokage's assistant. It had been nothing but the principles, of course. No hands-on training yet until she had fully researched the art of basic medicine. And while Sakura had always held a fondness in her heart for reading, endless research was grating on her nerves. She had been cooped up in the Hokage's library for hours, her eyes straining over each page with nothing but the data-books in front of her and on the shelves for company.

Her only small comfort was knowing that the Hokage intended to train her tomorrow—not just theory and principles, actual medical ninjutsu. The thought was enough to tide the student over for her bouts in the books, but her patience was wearing a bit thin. She supposed, though, that she should be honoured one of the Legendary Sannin had agreed to train her at all. It crossed her mind for a moment, before it died.

No, it had been too long to still be grateful. She had earned the right to be impatient, god dammit.

Sakura sighed, not for the first time. It was stuffy in there, and it was almost dusk. Shizune had promised to bring her some food, but that had been almost an hour ago. No doubt Tsunade had roped her into helping with (doing) the paperwork. In fact, she was probably sipping sake leisurely at her desk while Sakura pored over her books. With a twinge of anger at the woman who was now her master, Sakura slammed the book shut. She had the sudden urge to get out of this room and eat. But before she could make her way to the door, a haggard Shizune burst into the room.

"Oh! Sakura! You're still here! Thank god!" She made her way to the table, offering the medic-nin-in-training a gentle smile. It was then that Sakura noticed the box of takeaway she carried, eyeing it greedily. "Sorry it took so long, I had to reorganise the files Tsunade-sama knocked over this morning."

They both chuckled a bit, recalling the Hokage's punch which had scored yet another hole in her office wall. It had sent a file cabinet flying across the room from the resulting shock wave. Tsunade could be angered by the slightest provocation, but the latest unsatisfactory mission report from some of her chuunin had been a relatively minor offence. Sakura remembered the two nameless men practically cowering in the aftermath as they tried to sustain the Hokage's death glare. Of course, she had calmed down considerably after that, but that didn't help the file cabinet. The poor, poor file cabinet.

Shizune set the container down on the mess of papers as Sakura descended on it. It was a simple bowl of noodles with a side of some sticks from the dango shop, but it was plenty enough for her. She popped a dango in her mouth right off the bat, savouring its sweetness as her temporary teacher continued speaking.

"Anyway, do you know what was in that cabinet?" Shizune had rounded the table, and was currently studying which volume had been last opened.

Sakura shook her head, her mouth full of dumpling.

Shizune smiled. "Didn't think so!" She flipped open the book, searching for a certain chapter, it seemed. "Well, those files were all the latest mission records, and it got me thinking about how essential your medical training is. Once you know the basics, you'll already be a huge help to your team—yet it's imperative that you know as much as possible." She spoke in a rapid tone, excitedly hurrying through her speech as Sakura tried to comprehend what she was getting at. She was still flipping through the book. "Right now you're studying all the basics, and I know pretty soon Tsunade-sama will have you actively engaging in medicine as her apprentice, but—I know you're capable enough for it right now, and I think—"

"You want to teach me hands-on ninjutsu now?" she began slowly, a dango stick hanging out of her mouth.

"Yes! I felt the sudden urge to teach!" Shizune appeared to have finally found the chapter she was looking for. She flipped the book around so Sakura could see: it read _Different Blood Types and Effects on Chakra_. She simply stared at the chapter title for a moment before shifting her narrowed eyes over to Shizune.

"Tsunade-sama is drunk, isn't she." Her tone was devoid of question.

The Hokage's assistant hung her head in shame. "Yes."

"She probably won't be able to train me tomorrow, will she."

"No."

"And you felt guilty, so you decided you'd train me yourself while she's hungover."

"Yes."

Not for the first (or second) time that day, Sakura sighed. "I read that chapter about different blood types. Why do you want me to look at it again? It seemed too advanced for simple ninjutsu."

Shizune had picked herself back up from her shame surprisingly fast, trading her glum expression instead for one of enthusiasm. "Oh, in a way, I suppose it is. But it was one of the first things Tsunade-sama taught me, and I think you'll find it's vital to a lot of the practices you'll learn soon." Shizune paused for a moment, glancing at the medical papers on the table. They were both seated in the library, the heap of books between them getting in the way of Sakura's food. She nibbled at another dango stick as she opened the container of noodles, rummaging through it for the utensils held within. "What do you remember from that chapter?"

"Hmm." Sakura ripped open the package and broke apart her chopsticks. "Something about how the flow of chakra within the body differs slightly between the blood types, and how the chakra flow of the medical shinobi can affect the healing of the patient." She took a moment to stuff her mouth with noodles. "I think it said that the same blood type has a better connection."

Shizune nodded. "Right. For me, since I have Type A blood, my chakra works best in tandem with a patient who is also a Type A."

"But...how are you supposed to heal people in the field if you don't know what blood type they are? It won't work?" She continued slurping noodles.

"That's exactly what you need to work out. Just because your blood types are different doesn't mean you can't heal them; it just means you won't heal as efficiently. Usually this isn't a problem for flesh wounds, but once you get into the internal organs and bruising, you need to keep their blood in mind."

Sakura felt her brow digging a trench in her wide forehead. "But why does it matter?"

Shizune grinned. Apparently teaching was something she was all too eager to do. "Think about it: your chakra is reaching into their body, mending muscle and bone together and making blood flow return to normal. You need an intimate understanding of that chakra you're using, and the chakra _they're_ using. Everybody's chakra is different; I'm sure you knew that. But it matters a lot in medical ninjutsu—more than people think. Blood type is just a part of that. It's not like you just stick your hands on someone and your chakra instantly heals them." She laughed.

The pink-haired girl was chewing on the tip of one of her chopsticks, seeming to consider this for a second. "So...in order to heal somebody, I need to stay aware of their different chakra. I need a way to get around the small differences in order to get the best results."

"Mhm. Exactly."

"Hmm." She had finished all her food, and now was left with nothing to keep her from talking. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, there's not much we can do tonight, but I can at least advise you to keep it in mind for the time being. Tomorrow I'll get you started on your first...patient, if Tsunade-sama is too 'hung' up on her problems." Shizune felt reluctant to inform her that her first patient would be a slimy fish drowning in the abundance of air, but was not above making a pun at the Godaime's expense. All she got for her effort, however, was an unreadable expression and a polite chuckle.

Shizune rose, deciding to leave everything as it was in the library. After all, there would be nobody else coming in here until tomorrow morning. Sakura pushed her chair out from the table as she stretched, rising to carry the empty food container out the door.

"Good night Shizune-senpai."

Shizune had been absently gazing at the bookshelves which lined the walls. But then a thought struck her. "Sakura, wait a second! How silly of me!" She stepped over to the data-book section of the library, her fingertip grazing the copious collections which made up an entire enormous wall of the library—shinobi data, Sakura saw. They appeared to be listed alphabetically as Shizune systematically found each folder: one, two, three, four. Double-checking each folder, Shizune turned to her impromptu student and thrust them into her surprised hands.

"Here. Before tomorrow, I want you to study these. Think of it as a supplement to your research. After your regular training, come back to the Hokage tower tomorrow evening and I'll try to show you the importance of what you've learned." She smiled, her eyes crinkling in a way which oddly befit the tired and half-crazed attendant.

It didn't even occur to Sakura when she was handed those folders that Shizune had just done something against the laws of the village. There wasn't a single thought about how all shinobi records were private to all but a select few. All that entered her mind at the time was pure wonderment and disbelief as she was handed Team Seven's medical records.

* * *

She still couldn't believe it. She was sitting cross-legged, simply staring at the four simple brown folders arranged in a semicircle around her on the bed. Her morals had kicked in halfway home, and it had almost been enough to send her marching back with folders in tow.

Almost.

Alas, her curiosity won out in the end. She wasn't even sure what she was so excited for; they were simply medical records. Albeit, they were her team's medical records, but there wasn't a whole lot she was expecting from them. Except...

_Sasuke-kun!_ Her heart almost leapt at the idea of learning more about her brooding teammate. He was just so _hot!_ Any information on Sasuke would put her way ahead on Ino. The thought of usurping that blonde pig as rightful wife to Sasuke was enough to make her giddy. She blushed and giggled at the simple thought. Here it was. She reached out for his file once the giggling had subsided, but then she caught herself in a rare moment of uncharacteristic duty. Her heart said to disregard the job, but her mind firmly disagreed.

_No,_ she thought. _Shizune-senpai trusted me with these files for a reason. I need to stay on task!_

Huffing a bit, she decided to set aside Sasuke's file for last. It was only fitting that Sasuke-kun would be her prize in the end, after all. And, she supposed, it was also fitting if she began with her own file. That being said, she withdrew hers from the circle and opened it.

Inside was a copy of her ninja registration I.D. photo from when she had graduated. It was a simple picture that stunk of immaturity. She had her hands clasped in front of her in an attempt of demure femininity, her long pinkish locks drawn gently around her shoulders and her chin tucked in what she had thought was an attractive gaze. She remembered posing for the camera that day; it was a humid and sticky summer day, and she had had trouble getting her hair to lie flat and not stuck in the sweat on her face. Despite the obvious day to not be photogenic, she had not let it stop her from attempting to be attractive.

The reality was, of course, far less than flattering, but she'd rather not get into that. So, scoffing at her past self, she moved down the page.

Name: Haruno, Sakura. Sex: Female. Birthday: March 28. All obvious stuff. A bit farther was information from her latest check-up. Height: 149cm. Weight: (here she mumbled grumpily). Blood Type: O. Ah. So she was Type O, huh?

Based on the medical texts she had read, Type O was a general donor. Anybody could accept her blood, and she smiled at the thought of being able to give her friends a blood transfusion should they need it. But then she shuddered at the thought of what would have to happen to _make_ them need it.

Her eyes skimmed further down the page. It had a brief list of her immediate family, and then a list of any doctor's appointments or hospital stays. Nothing of note, and obviously nothing which she hadn't already known. Her parents held no hidden secrets of her birthright; she had no medical complications, no illnesses, no fantastical abilities. She wasn't sure to be proud or disappointed of her parents' having had regular civilian lifestyles. Aside from the few documents of a particularly nasty shuriken injury she had gotten from her early days at the academy, there was nothing in her medical file which gave any hint she was a kunoichi of Konoha. There was a cluster of papers behind the medical page, all detailing mission reports which she obviously remembered; no use going through those. She wistfully gazed at the miniscule amount of missions—at least three-fourths of which were D-rank.

With a dramatic sigh, she closed the folder and set it down. The next one was Naruto's. Fighting down any remaining inner battles she had previously had about looking at her teammate's file, she finally gave in and peered inside. She gave a bark of laughter before containing herself (it was the dead of night, after all).

Naruto's ninja registration I.D. photo. Oh, _my._ He was masked by white paint and peppered with red symbols, looking for the life of him like some sort of demon. It was only accentuated by the sneer he graced the camera with and the exaggerated fighting pose he held. Her original reaction of mirth at the ridiculousness of his picture quickly gave way to annoyance, and then to anger. She felt her hand curling into a fist, rearing to punch the nearest living thing—-preferably Naruto. But, being nowhere around him, she settled for a quick punch to her pillow before going back to skim down the paper.

Name: Uzumaki, Naruto. Sex: Male. Birthday: October 10. Height: 146.7cm. Weight: 40.5kg. Blood Type: B.

The rest of his file was blank. Nothing besides his latest required check-up from before the chuunin exam. Puzzled, she tried flipping the page over. But there was nothing on that side, either. There was no list of his family, or of any hospital stays.

Sakura knew he had no parents or family in the village, yet it was reasonable enough to assume that they had left some sort of paper trail behind. She stared at the paper, her brows slightly furrowed. It was...troubling. What did it mean? Was Naruto so much of an orphan that nobody knew who his parents were? Did he ever have _any_ adult in his life? Perhaps there was no list of hospital stays...simply because there had never been anyone around to take him.

She couldn't keep the pang of sympathy from her chest. Sure, Naruto was an annoying knuckle-head, but that didn't mean she didn't care about him. He was a friend now. A comrade. She had seen from their missions together that he really did care about her and the rest of their team.

Of course, she would never admit that to his face.

Since his file had been practically barren, aside from the photo and the packet of mission reports in the back (all of which she already knew about), Sakura resigned herself to replacing it in the circle between her folder and the next in line. She held her breath as she eyed the third folder: Kakashi's. How long had they known the man? On the first day they met him, he refused to tell them anything but his name.

Looking back, she supposed that they never really knew him at all. He hadn't been forward in his introduction, and they had never really pushed it. They supposed he merely kept to himself, or he just didn't feel comfortable letting them get to know him. They may be naïve, but they weren't idiots; they recognised the secrecy of the legendary jounin, and respected him all the more for it. They accepted that he didn't reveal any part of himself—not even his face- yet they trusted him implicitly. So how in the world could she ever betray his trust and go through his personal records?

_Apparently very easily_, she admitted to herself. She hung her head in shame, but recovered quickly as she let her eyes wash over her teacher's file.

It was packed with info. Very much unlike hers or Naruto's, the entire first page was almost covered completely in writing. She greedily drank in the information which Kakashi had been so eager to hide.

His ninja I.D. photo was plain and simple. It looked like the sensei she saw every day. His right eye was turned in an upward crescent, in that signature fashion she knew so well. He had a way of expressing himself amazingly through just the use of one eye and a partially uncovered eyebrow. An upturned eye? Happy Kakashi. A narrowed eye? Angry Kakashi. A half-lidded eye? Kakashi.

Name: Hatake, Kakashi. Sex: Male. Birthday: September 15. Height: 181cm. Weight: 67.5kg. Blood Type: O.

She stared at the simple information. It was so simple—so deceptively simple—that it seemed so completely unreal. There were more dead facts about Kakashi-sensei here than she had ever seen before. They had the same blood type to boot, just to accentuate the simplicity of it all. What followed after that basic info was a list of family relations, but there was only one which Sakura even recognised: Hatake, Sakumo. Father.

Oh, no. The name immediately set off a million different bells in her head. Sakura was a bookworm, top of her class in the theoretical art of ninpo. How could she forget the tale of the White Fang of Konoha? It had been touched upon in the Academy a couple times; the lesson Iruka-sensei taught was to be mindful of the consequences of your actions, though Sakura knew it was deeper than that. The first time she had heard the name of the White Fang, she had been torn between siding with him for saving his friends, and siding with the village because of all the deaths he later caused due to his mission's failure. It had stuck out in her mind as the first time the Ninja Law conflicted with her beliefs.

Of course, now that she was a student of Kakashi, those unsteady beliefs had turned into rock-solid ones: those who disregard the rules are scum, but those who disregard their friends are even worse than scum. She smiled to herself. It was the first time that the name "Hatake" had ever connected for her. It seemed so obvious now. _So the White Fang was his father, huh...it makes sense, then, that he went with what his father believed._

But it hit her chest with a pang once she remembered that Sakumo Hatake had been disgraced in the village before committing suicide. And from the looks of the dates, he had killed himself when Kakashi was only six years old.

Kakashi had had no other family at the time. Images of Sasuke, and then Naruto flashed through her brain before she shook herself of them.

_No...Kakashi-sensei turned out okay. So will they. _Yet a twinge of guilt at still having a loving family to come home to still played at her conscience. She stared at the name of Sakumo Hatake for a minute longer, then braced herself for the mess of writing which lay beneath. It was a brief list of hospital stays, a few of which she had been present for. None of the dates seemed particularly noteworthy to her, though there were notes about his status written in the margins. One of the earliest stays had 'Sharingan transplanted' next to it. She felt her heartbeat quicken.

She flipped the page over, and was greeted by a new sheet detailing his Sharingan eye.

This. This was what she had been both hesitant and elated to find the truth about.

Ignoring the basic necessities adorning the top of the page as a part of the protocol, she jumped right into the doctor's lengthy notes. '_Patient returned from mission with a Sharingan eye having been transplanted into__ left eye socket __i__n the field. Medic-__ni__n on scene did fine job with transplant. __Kannabi__ Bridge area site of transplant. No infection. Little intervention required and eye should heal normally on own. __A scar cannot be avoided.__ Patient __will__ have trouble adjusting to eye, but it shouldn't be rejected outright. Chakra levels a concern: __patient cannot deactivate Sharingan. __ Patient may suffer from depression. Patient refuses to eat.'_

Two pictures had been included: one was of Kakashi sitting in a hospital bed staring up at the camera. He was so young-looking. Bandages were wrapped around the left half of his face. The one uncovered eye was...it was dead to the world. Kakashi stared up without really seeing, a dark circle in the indentation beneath his eye. A plate of food had been placed on the table beside him, though none of it had been touched.

'_Patient may suffer from depression. Patient refuses to eat.__' _

From the image Sakura was seeing, this definitely seemed to be the truth. He just looked so _sad_, and so pitiful, that it hardly seemed at all like the Kakashi-sensei she knew. It was hard to match this Kakashi up to the one who had been her sensei for almost a year now. And he was only _twelve years old, _by _god._

She peeled her eyes from the first picture and turned them instead to the second. This one appeared to be a close-up of the Sharingan. The sclera of it was networked by agitated veins, the skin around it swollen and red. The slash across his eye (which, now that Sakura really looked at, made her wince at how much it looked like it hurt) was scabbed over and stitched in places- haphazardly, and likely done in the field as well. It looked deep; much deeper than the small scar had ever let on. The Sharingan looked forward, two tomoe speckling the blood-red surface.

_Wait...two? Kakashi-sensei's Sharingan has three dots..._

The whole eye was puzzling, and much like it would in real life, the pictured Sharingan seemed to enrapture her, hold her tight in a genjutsu. But in the end, it simply was a picture of a transplanted eye. And the longer Sakura looked at it, the more she wondered just where it had come from. An Uchiha, obviously...but from who? The notes from Kakashi's hospital stay had said that the 'site of transplant' was Kannabi Bridge.

So what was it? A mission? Realisation dawned on her that she held all the answers she was likely to ever find. Flipping quickly to the packet of missions in the back, she found it to be a very, _very _large stack of papers. Fortunately, they had been organised according to rank. And if Kakashi's eye had been sacrificed on that mission, then it better have been at least an A-rank.

She found it relatively quickly, considering. It was one of the lengthier reports, and had a paper clip holding the pages together. The first page was a list of the shinobi assigned to the mission, with a picture held underneath.

Minato Namikaze was a name which immediately jumped out at her. Questions ran through at a thousand miles an hour before she remembered belatedly that the Yondaime had been her sensei's sensei. Minato had been the jounin team leader on this mission, his bright yellow hair standing up on the ends and reminding Sakura of somebody she knew.

Next was Kakashi Hatake. She noted the rank listed beside his name: jounin. Her eyes widened; he couldn't have been much older that twelve, going by the dates. It lined up perfectly with the dates on his hospital record, reaffirming that this was indeed _the_ Kannabi Bridge mission. He was dressed in an odd-looking uniform with a sheathed sword strapped to his back. But she couldn't take her eyes off his two deep, dark eyes. They were half-lidded in much the same way her own sensei's were, yet in this photo he seemed much more...wary. Much less likely to let his guard down.

Third was Rin Nohara. The name didn't ring any bells, though from her description she had been a medic-nin at a chuunin level. And this girl. _She was a part of his genin team, wasn't she? _Her mind was already dreading the answer. _And she had to transplant Kakashi's eye...__I could never do that to someone I care about...I wouldn't be able to bear it. _She was smiling in the picture, two purple markings on each cheek in a fashion reminding Sakura vaguely of the Inuzuka. But she wasn't looking at the camera; her eyes were instead raised to a certain recently-promoted jounin. Even from the time Sakura was in, staring at those eyes from so many years ago was almost like looking in a mirror. She knew all too well what that look meant, and frowned at Kakashi's cold stare toward the camera. She knew what that one meant, too.

Finally, there was a fourth name: Obito Uchiha. Sakura found herself sighing again. So that was the boy whose Sharingan had been ripped from him. What had compelled him to give Kakashi his eye? He looked so whole and happy in this photo, with two dark eyes hidden behind a pair of bright orange goggles staring back at her. Both his hands were fiddling with his goggles, and a broad grin was stretched across his face. He was like a more eccentric-looking Naruto, if that were even possible. He had been a chuunin as well, and a note had been made stating that he hadn't awakened his Sharingan yet. At least, not before the beginning of the mission.

Sakura flipped the cover over, seeing a brief mission objective and preliminary report on the whereabouts and current conditions of the bridge. All of it was written by an official at the Hokage tower. She idly wondered if it had been the Sandaime Hokage, recalling the funeral which had been held several weeks ago after the fiasco at the end of the chuunin exams.

Glancing further down the page, a mission report was written in the hand of Namikaze. It detailed the mission which had transpired all those years ago.


	2. Cenotaph

The trees outside of her bedroom window were swaying, languorous despite the heavy breeze. There were birds chirping, and her parents laughing downstairs at some inane joke. She could hear the high voices of children playing in the street, along with the slight bustle of the awakening village centre.

She remembered vaguely that her alarm had sounded at its usual time, but she had already been awake. In fact, she had never slept, instead choosing to pore over the records laid out on her bedspread. And once morning had fully arisen, she still had not been dressed or yet gone to meet her team. It took a long time to read Kakashi's file, and by the time she was finally finished, she held no desire for sleep. She simply sat cross-legged on her bed and stared off in a daze, mentally berating herself.

She had set out under Shizune's orders to learn medicinal records. Learning her sensei's past was more than enough for one night, and she hardly felt better for having knowledge of this newfound information (granted, it had been Shizune's fault for including _everything_ in the files). In the face of it, she barely even comprehended the fact that she was late. Moreover, she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to look at Kakashi the same way again. Part of his mystique was his shrouded history, and his cool demeanour; now that it'd been unearthed, all Sakura could recall were the empty eyes of a young boy in a hospital bed. How could she possibly face him knowing everything she did now? He clearly never wanted it to be known. He never wanted to talk about it.

_You idiot!_ _You shouldn't have read it! How could you go behind his back like this!? Forget everything_—_everything you read, everything you saw, all of it! You're a terrible student! Bad, bad Sakura!_

The more she thought about it, the more she was terrified to face Kakashi-sensei. What if he sensed that somehow, in some way, she knew _everything_? About Sakumo, about Kannabi Bridge, about the Sharingan...about Obito. About how his team crumbled. Although there had been no information about Rin Nohara, Sakura could only assume the worst had happened to her, given that there was no record of her in the present. Minato Namikaze had saved the village, at the cost of his own life, when the Kyuubi attacked. Kakashi was the only one left, and it made her heart break.

She debated internally for what seemed like hours, scolding and alternately reasoning with herself in regular guilty intervals, until at least she gave a deep sigh. She still had not quite decided what to do; the sensiblity and insanity had fought tooth and nail, and though they could not quite come to an understanding, they both agreed that at the very least, she had better get dressed and meet her team. She left her house with the folders still sitting neatly in her semi-circle pattern. One had been glanced through; one had been skimmed; one had been ransacked.

She never even read Sasuke's file.

* * *

"Kakashi-sensei, where—" Naruto's speech was disrupted by a swift kick to his abdomen, sending him flying into a training post. It hadn't been a particularly hard kick, at least not by the usual standards, but any kick delivered by Kakashi was sure to leave its mark. He scrunched up his eyes, waited for the pain to subside, and tried to get up while retaining some dignity.

"Don't get distracted. It's good and all to keep a conversation, but don't let it hinder your reflexes."

The stare which Naruto set upon Kakashi was all too familiar. It was the same look he gave whenever he was feeling particularly petulant after one of the jounin's disapproving remarks. And, as per usual, it had only served to make Naruto more determined to beat him.

Kakashi smiled as the genin rushed forward. Riling him up was a sure-fire way to make him pay more attention.

"Where"—a punch came toward Kakashi from the left—"is"—a sweep of Kakashi's leg made Naruto jump out of the way—"Sakura-chan?" A shadow clone came down from the sky holding a rasengan. Kakashi jumped out of its reach with ease, though noting the sizable chunk of earth it had moved.

"I thought maybe you knew, Naruto. It's not my job to keep tabs on the three of you."

"Hmph." Naruto made a face. "But Sakura is never late to training! And we already went to the hospital to visit Sasuke, so she cant be there again...right..." He mumbled off.

Kakashi sighed. "Sakura is branching off into her own area of expertise, one which I have no ability to teach her. Don't expect her to be around as often training with you."

"But...we always train, at _least_ every other day!"

"She's probably busy. She has been for a while now. And, speaking of training, I think this'll be a good opportunity to hone your tracking skills." He pulled out _Icha Icha Paradise _lazily, turning to lean on the training post he'd kicked Naruto into previously. "If you want to find her so badly, track her down and disrupt her," said Kakashi. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Just don't blame me when she punches you in the face."

At that, Naruto practically scoffed. "You just want me out of your way so you can read your stupid book."

"Yep."

He glared at the jounin as if deciding whether to try and punch him or not. He seemed to decide that it wouldn't be the best of ideas (he would have been right), then promptly ran in the direction of Hokage tower, where he was sure he'd find Sakura. "When I find her, we're all training together!" he yelled behind him before disappearing from sight.

Kakashi smiled at the blond before settling in for some _Icha Icha _time. Or, he would have, if not for the sense of somebody approaching from the opposite end of the training field, in the direction of the memorial stone.

"Oh. Good morning, Sakura. You aren't being sneaky, but nice of you to join anyway."

When he spoke, she had given an audible gasp before hesitantly stepping out into view. It appeared as if she'd been hiding behind a tree, though she should've known by now that that would never work on him. Having been found out much earlier than she intended, she walked toward her sensei with a slow, uneasy gait.

"...Good morning, Kakashi-sensei."

"Yo." He flashed her a quick smile with his eyes before turning them again to his book.

"Um...where'd Naruto go? I saw him running off."

"To find you, actually."

"Ah..." He was always so damnably succinct.

What followed could only be described as an awkward silence. She stood facing him as he faced the pages. It lasted precisely nine (long) seconds before Sakura willed herself to speak once more. She found it much more difficult to talk in light of her findings, of course, but that wasn't the only cause of her hesitation: unlike practically every other time when Team Seven met for training, Kakashi and Sakura were alone. It was...strange. Every time they were together, attention was primarily paid to Naruto or Sasuke. Or both. Or all three of them at once. Hardly ever was it on Sakura alone.

But even now, he was still reading _Icha Icha Paradise._ Not even sparing her a glance.

She coughed to attract his attention. "Kakashi-sensei, shouldn't we, uh, train? Or something."

"Or something." His eyes finally glanced up to meet hers. "You have something to say."

She started a bit, though perhaps a bit in mock surprise. She hadn't wanted to be this overt about it. "Why would y-you say that?" _Of course, __of course__ he could sense it, of _course_ he could, Sakura, you idiot, you didn't honestly think he wouldn't know you__—_

"Sakura." The glancing of eyes had become a cold stare. It was a familiar stare, one which he fixed upon his students every so often when delivering a lesson he viewed as vital. It was the same expression he wore when lecturing about teamwork and co-operation. It was one of cold, yet still soothing, authority. "Don't try to lie to me. You obviously wanted to speak to me privately, or else you wouldn't have waited for Naruto to leave. You didn't come closer until I sent him away."

Her eyebrows knitted in an imitation of shock, ready to refute his claim with a series of _"__Of course not!"_ and _"No I didn't!"_ She was prepared with a series of negatories, but when Sakura opened her mouth, she found herself immediately closing it. She couldn't rebuke that—or, rather, she couldn't bring herself too. Because as much as Sakura preferred to be right, she just couldn't force herself to lie.

Why was she even stalling in the first place? Kakashi would find out she knew sooner or later. Sakura was terrible at keeping secrets, as evidenced by her chief instinct to tell him. Actually, no, it wasn't stalling; it was just too damn hard to say it. As much as she knew her sensei, there was no telling how he'd react to this.

He had never brought up Kannabi Bridge, nor any other mission from his youth. Namikaze never earned a mention except upon rare occasion: being the Yondaime Hokage, he _was_ brought up now and again. Rin Nohara and Obito Uchiha were two names completely foreign, and likely not names which Kakashi had even said aloud in years. They were merely written on the memorial stone, off to the side of the very training ground they stood in. Would Kakashi shout at her for breaking his trust and delving into his private life? Would he ignore what she said altogether and continue reading _Icha Icha_? Would he break down into wracking sobs and oodles of tears? (Sakura severely doubted this last one even as possibility; no matter the circumstance, Kakashi Hatake of the Sharingan would _never_ cry.)

Ah, to hell with it. _Say it, Sakura, say it, _she thought._ But do it...slowly._

With that, she took a in a large inhalation of air and silently took several steps in the direction of the memorial stone. Kakashi followed close behind. His book was still open, but he wasn't currently reading it, at least. They stopped several feet from the stone, its flowers arranged neatly at its base, Sakura taking a second to plan what she'd say. There was no going back now, so making sure she didn't say something stupid was now her biggest priority.

"Kakashi-sensei," she began, almost sounding strained to his ears. "Do...do you remember when we first trained here? When we first saw this stone." She paused a moment, hunting for just the right words. "'The names of my closest friends are engraved here_.__' _That's what you said._"_

"Yes, I recall," he said. Kakashi eyed her with...an odd look. One which she could not place right away. "...And you'd like to know more, I assume." Just before she could decipher it, the strange look had gone with nary a single facial movement.

Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe it was just his face.

"Um...actually, yes. I _would_ like to know more." _You already know all you need to, Sakura._ "Can you...tell me about them? Please?" _What, straight from the horse's mouth? You _saw_ the photographs, he was depressed, a terrible time for him, don't dig up his past, you absolute _incompetent.

The book at some point had been tucked back into his point, not even garnering Sakura's notice. His hands lay at his sides, the same blank, half-lidded expression he seemed to wear by default pasted onto his face. Yet a different air was about him as he looked at her. It was...calculating. He seemed to be evaluating her. Perhaps searching for the words. Then, he decided to speak.

"I said that my friends' names were on this stone, but that's only a half-truth. To me, they were far more than that." He set Sakura with another of his authoritative gazes. "They were my team."

Sakura swallowed. Her mouth was exceedingly dry. Something in the situation had become far heavier than she had first anticipated. "So...your whole team is on that stone...?"

"Oh, no. Only one of their names is etched on this particular stone." He looked toward the imposing grey stone of the sharp memorial, looking thoughtful. "My best friend was a knucklehead." He paused in his speech for a brief moment. His next words were delivered in a surprisingly soft tone, and Sakura got the distinct impression that right there and right then, Kakashi was not standing in front of her anymore—not really. "He was always the first to rush in without thinking and getting himself into trouble." His body remained, sure, but his eyes were ages away; reliving a moment from his past, she suspected.

His gaze had drifted down toward the stone with a smile playing at his lips, still visible beneath the mask. His hands were in his pants' pockets, comfortably speaking of his memories. And right then, Sakura realised the full extent of what had just happened. Kakashi Hatake had opened up, if only by the slightest smidgen of the definition. But even by that smidgen, she had one up on both Naruto and Sasuke's knowledge of their teacher put together (well, of course she had _far_ more knowledge now, thanks to the records, but who's paying any attention to little details like that, really?). Sakura felt the need to push further, draw more out of him.

"Um...sensei...what was his name? If-If you don't mind me asking," she delivered with hurried assurance. If she had been correct in her assumption, then these people, long since dead and gone, hadn't been brought up to Kakashi much in the past years. Maybe he was one of those people that can't bear to mention the dead, or maybe he'd be mad at her for pushing, or maybe—

"Obito."

He was staring at the stone as he uttered those three syllables, with a pained angle to his brow. But it wasn't completely of pain; Sakura could tell that it ran much further. It said a thousand things in the blink of an eye: anger, sadness, regret, mirth—each was found only in the minute expressions of his eyes, which Sakura had long since learned to read. (At least, ones which she had _tried_ to learn.)

But, above anything else, Sakura noted the lightness with which he delivered Obito's name. It wasn't a taboo word; it wasn't a name he balked at from sheer memory. She got the sudden impression that it was a name he spoke every single time he saw this stone. His utterance seemed to carry everything that shone in his eyes; it had been a mantra, a routine, one which Kakashi had lived by for years: Go to stone. Tell Obito everything you never got the chance to say.

Sakura hadn't felt like she was intruding on anything private until now. And now that she had realised it, she wanted to get away, abort this line of questioning. Leave him to his grief...or whatever other name she could give it. Because it wasn't something which had one name. The closest she could come was perhaps, simply, 'remembrance'. And she felt like it was something she wasn't meant to ever see.

"Kakashi-sensei, I..." The words died on her lips. The emotions in his eyes, the eyes of inexpugnable Kakashi of the Sharingan, were something she was not accustomed to. She found her voice to utter one small, cliché comfort: "I'm sorry for your loss." _Stupid, stupid, that was a stupid thing to say..._

"Thank you. But you're not the one who should be sorry." Sakura stared at him dumbly. Kakashi had taken his eyes off the stone to look at her just then, faintly surprised yet still carrying the turbulence she saw just a moment ago. At those words, however, she thought again of the medical report from his implantation of the Sharingan: '_Patient may suffer from depression. Patient refuses to eat.'_

Ah. "So... the one who should be sorry..."

"Is me." At that, Sakura couldn't even bring herself to tell him how wrong he was; that Obito had appreciated his efforts, that he had died in that rockfall while believing in his best friend, that he had entrusted him with his most precious gift for a reason. Words wouldn't come. She didn't know the right words. What words could possibly comfort Kakashi Hatake while assuring him once and for all that his blame was misplaced?

She needed to get away, the mood was suffocating her, disallowing her rational thought. Primarily, she just wanted to run up and hug him, but she felt that wouldn't go over too well—not now.

"I—I should go find Naruto." Without waiting for a response, Sakura quickly made her way to the edge, where the trees met the large clearing. She looked back only once, then, seeing his still unmoving statue, gaze fixed upon the cold, grey, kunai-shaped structure with an array of bright orange flowers juxtaposing it on the ground. And with that, she set off into the village, leaving Kakashi behind.

It was a constant feature of the third training ground, the memorial stone. Everpresent whenever they trained. It cast its shadow, yet the children usually disregarded its important symbolism as just another feature of the land, like some large stone tree. But it _was_ important.

Sakura chided herself for not having realised it sooner. Though it never had a large influx of visitors, it kept a single person returning day after day. It was an important ritual for a grieving shinobi, whose offerings of flowers at the cenotaph were always laid fresh-cut in the mornings.


	3. Ramen Shop

**Note: There w****as ****a**** question about where this story fits into the chronology of the series. In my mind, it ****started before Sasuke defected****, wh****ile he**** was still in hospital. In reality, Sakura had not asked Tsunade for her teaching until a bit later, ****and Kakashi was still resting after his debacle with Itachi, but I decided to stretch out the time between the Search for Tsunade and Sasuke Retrieval Arcs. Thus, there is a healthy Kakashi and a studious Sakura.****To**** answer ****someone else, I am aware of Rin's story, and am caught up with both manga and anime (though I **_**am**_** a couple months behind in the anime). Also, sorry the updating's a bit wonky. Cheers.**

The ramen shop was devoid of customers, but Sakura had long since given up hope on finding Naruto anyway. If he hadn't been at Ichiraku's, she was completely at a loss as to where he might be. For now, the smell of the cooking rice and pork was comforting as she rested on the leftmost stool. She hadn't ordered anything, but she didn't have to; Teuchi had looked up from his pot with a smile, his eyes crinkling into a deeper squint than usual, when his eyes lit upon her. Recognising her as one of Naruto's friends, he gave her a nod and a swift affirmation that no, Naruto had not been round today, and would she like some ramen? Sakura's nerves were not quite quelled yet, and so she had declined the offer. He still allowed her to stay without an order. He was a kind and adorable old man (with an equally adorable daughter), after all. Now Sakura was glad that he was such an amiable man, as well.

She closed her eyes, her hands clasped in front of her on the counter-top. Neither her mind, nor her pulse, had slowed down since leaving the training ground a number of minutes ago. The image of Kakashi at the monument was etched onto her brain. No amount of clear thought could ever chisel it out again.

Why did he have to be so...like Kakashi all the time? Frustratingly cavalier one moment, dispirited recollection the next. Even when he wasn't trying to be enigmatic, his actions left Sakura at a loss for words. Obviously he wouldn't go for talking about his problems; invading his private life was far from something Sakura wanted to do. The last thing she'd like would be to crowd him and make him uncomfortable. That was just the way Kakashi was. Sure, he always kept up some kind of front for the world, due in part to being a shinobi of Konoha, but Sakura had a feeling it ran deeper than that. The wounds and scars of the past would surely impact him even now—close him off to others because of the loss he experienced at an early age...growing into Kakashi. That would almost...certainly explain...oh. _Oh._

She rubbed the palms of her hands into her eyes, exhaling deeply. Was she really evaluating her teacher's psychological profile? Had _Shinobi Mental Health _and _Pioneers of the Thinking Mind_ really affected her this much? No, her sensei, her beloved-yet-difficult sensei, was not a case study for her medical research. He was a man. Her teacher. _Their_ teacher. And now that she had seen the truth of what he'd faced, how could she possibly help but worry for him? But, then again, he had been doing just fine all these years without her intervention. He had lived life carrying the burden (or maybe he didn't actually blame himself as much as Sakura thought he might) and completing mission after mission for the village. So did he even need help at all..? Would he even listen is she did? She was just a kid, after all, what could she possibly have to offer in the way of comfort?

She needed help herself. If she was to talk to Kakashi, she would require somebody else to make it more...palatable. Maybe she should talk to Naruto about it, if she could only find—

_"__Sakura-chan!"_

She shrieked, then promptly fell out of her chair. Naruto looked down at her, a guilty look on his face. It would've been funny, if not for the rising anger present in her eyes.

_"Naruto!"_

Thwack. Naruto lay several feet away, rubbing his cheek and wincing.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," he whimpered.

Sakura gave an exasperated sigh, sitting back onto the chair. Naruto rose and cautiously approached, as if testing whether she would hit him or not. When she didn't, he slid into the seat beside her.

"I've been looking for you forever!" he practically yelled. "Kakashi-sensei told me to look for you, but you weren't at Hokage tower, or the hospital, or anywhere."

"That's because I was in bed for most of the morning."

Naruto gaped at her. "You mean...you were late? _You_ were _late_!?"

"Yes, Naruto! Now shut up. I've been looking for you too. There's something I think I need to tell you. Something important. It's been weighing me down all morning, I need to get it off my chest. Out of anyone, I think I can tell you."

"Huh?" A small blush crept onto his cheeks, and he wore a stupefied expression . "Y-You mean...are you...Sakura-chan, do you mean—"

Sakura groaned, turning her head sharply towards him. "What on earth are you talking about?" Upon seeing his face, slow realisation crept into her. "Not _that,_ you _idiot!"_

"Oh."

She took a breath and let it out slowly, as if in her mind she were counting to ten. "Just once, can you take this seriously?"

"I'm trying, but you're talking weird!"

"Just order some ramen and listen!"

Naruto grumbled, but complied. Teuchi seemed happy to finally be cooking food for someone—especially seeing as that person was Naruto—but the orange genin didn't seem too happy about his frog wallet diminishing yet again. Yet as the bowl was set in front of him, he became elated and began scarfing it down. "Sakura-chan," he mumbled through an exorbitant amount of noodles, "you still didn't tell me what this is about." He slurped up the remaining broth. He ordered another bowl.

She steadied herself, and began to speak. "It's about Kakashi-sensei. I did something that...I probably shouldn't have." Naruto gave her a questioning look; but to his merit, his mouth stayed shut as Sakura launched into the details of everything that had happened—how the files had come into her possession, and how she had read Kakashi's from front to back—how she discovered that one mission which had shaped him into the Kakashi they know today. Naruto grew increasingly more troubled, slowing the speed at which he ate as she went on, but when Sakura got to the part about the reconciliation with Obito and the cave-in with the Sharingan, he stopped eating his third bowl of noodles entirely. Instead he turned to his teammate and stared.

"His best friend's..._eye?_"

"Well...yeah. And earlier, when I went to the training ground, I mentioned it to him—not that, specifically, but his friend's name. Obito." She grew quieter as she continued, staring down at the counter as she traced the patterns scratched upon it with her finger. "He described him a bit, and he had this...this look. He had the saddest look on his face, and...and..."

"You didn't know what to do." She turned toward him and nodded. Naruto's brow was furrowed, his eyes taking on an uncharacteristic edge. Sakura could tell that simply trying to picture Kakashi at that moment was difficult for him. Their teacher had actually shown some semblance of emotion which neither of them had really seen before. If Naruto had been faced with that, then he would have been in much the same spot Sakura had found herself in—almost frozen, with no idea what to say to him. And for Naruto, the boy who befriends everyone he meets using his words and actions, that was truly saying something.

They had both grown silent, studying the facts in their heads. Everything they knew about Kakashi. All which he had done for them. All which he had never said.

"Excuse me, but I could've sworn you said 'Obito'..?"

They were swept out of their joint reverie by the deep voice of Teuchi. The old man stood with a strainer in one hand and a bowl in the other. It appeared he'd been listening for a small while, though neither of the two genin had noticed.

"Yeah, she did," said Naruto. His eyes widened. "Do you know anything else about him?"

"Actually, I do." He returned to his stance near the back of the shop, though he continued to speak. "He would come in here often when I first opened, sometimes with his team after a mission. With Kakashi and the girl. The Yondaime would treat them at times." He smiled. "Unlike how your sensei refuses to treat you most days."

Naruto had been gaping at the ramen shop owner ever since he'd begun speaking. It seemed as if Naruto had never really considered the fact that Teuchi had been around for years. The man would, indeed, know the goings-on of the village due to being a civilian. And customers did talk, after all. Teuchi had paused for a moment, but now he frowned as he continued.

"Eventually, his team stopped coming. Well, not the whole team, at least. Not without Obito. I learned about the whole business from listening to Kakashi and the girl—they came here a bit then. Yondaime came too, sometimes, but it was never the same without that Uchiha kid." He sighed. "A shame, really. He was my favourite customer."

"But, the girl," Naruto started quickly, "what do you know about her?"

Teuchi blinked. "I'm afraid I don't know exactly. Everyone from that team stopped showing up here, but I heard things from others. I think she died." Sakura winced. She knew it, she had known Rin Nohara was dead, but hearing it was still disheartening. She had hoped she was wrong somehow.

They heard footsteps close by, just then. It broke the genin and Teuchi out of their conversation instantly. A woman lifted up the ramen shop's signs, settling into the rightmost stool. She ordered her food, then waited quietly.

The appearance of customers drastically changed the mood. A silence had found itself encroaching over the food stall for a minute or two, with only the sound of bubbling water and sizzling meats to cut through it. Sakura and Naruto both knew the moment had passed.

"Old man...thank you for telling us." Naruto grinned at him. Teuchi nodded, smiling back. The two students stepped off their stools and left the ramen shop.

It was almost afternoon. Normally they would finish training within the hour, but with the different format today, they had no idea what to expect. There was still training to be had, however; for now, they had better go find Kakashi. They walked in the direction of the training ground in silence, both their minds working to figure out their next step.

"Should we talk to him about it?" Naruto worried his lip between his teeth.

"No. I don't know. Don't talk about it. Not today. Maybe."

Silence. It stretched out quite a while, lasting until they were close to the forest surrounding training ground three.

"Sakura, should...should we tell Sasuke?"

Sakura started. It honestly hadn't crossed her mind. Which surprised her, because Sasuke was always on her mind. "Why?"

"I-I dunno. I figure, why not, y'know? We both already know. Plus Sasuke's lost a lot of people, too. Maybe he'd understand better."

"...Yeah. Maybe. Though I don't think we should be telling _everyone_." She hated to admit it, but Naruto was right. Neither he nor Sakura knew the kind of pain that comes with loss—Naruto, maybe, though his was a different kind of loss. He never knew what he had to lose in the first place. Not for the first time, the thought sent a pang through her chest.

"So...we'll tell him? After training?"

"No. I need to go home afterwards, to get the files. I still need to give them back." _And then go train medicine with a drunk Hokage and a frazzled assistant._

"Oh. Okay." He brushed aside a low-hanging tree branch. They were quite close to the training ground, now—close enough where Sakura could just make out the figure of Kakashi.

He was in the same spot Sakura had left him in, over an hour ago. The very picture of a statue. As he stared down at the ground, the only hint of movement was the subtle breeze through his grey hair and shirtsleeves.

She was surprised the birds hadn't started roosting.

"Oi! Kakashi-sensei!" Naruto screamed in the direction of their teacher. "I found Sakura-chan! Let's train!"

He ran the rest of the way toward the jounin, Sakura tutting and trailing behind. At the voice, Kakashi had finally turned around. And to Sakura's surprise, he was smiling—well, as much of a smile he could manage, what with half his face covered. She got the impression he hadn't been smiling a second ago, however; it was forced, _very_ forced, even by Kakashi's standards, though Naruto didn't appear to take any notice.

"Good," said Kakashi. He walked over to the training posts as he spoke. "You know the drill. You two have your regular spar, then you each face me one-on-one since Sasuke is still incapacitated." He looked at them each in turn. Being the dutiful ninja they were, they nodded in a show of understanding. Sakura took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind of anything but training. They would wait for a better moment to bring their worries up.

"Alright then. Start!" The jounin settled beside the centre post, fixing his students with a watchful stare.

The forced smile was gone, Sakura noticed.


End file.
